Sky
by Saori Aki Orimi
Summary: “Because they’ve never had someone like you before.” [OrganizationXIIISora]
1. Scents

Sky

**Summary: **"Because they've never had someone like you before." OrganizationXIIISora

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Kingdom Hearts. I do own a copy of CoM and a GameBoy SP, as well as a KHII disc, but not Kingdom Hearts. Either the disc or the franchise.

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Zexion can't stand Marluxia.

It's not the man's sometimes overly-girly mannerisms or looks. He exhibits those himself sometimes, and is moderately aware of it.

It's not the overbearing manner unbecoming to one so low on the ranks. Zexion doesn't much care about rank and 'actions becoming one's rank-' he's had experience with the annoyance involved with being lower on the scale, having always been the youngest, the lowest of the original six.

It's not even the proven disloyalty of the Graceful Assassin. He couldn't care less that the pink-haired man attempted to take over the Organization. He doesn't understand why everyone else makes such a big deal out of it. It's not like the attempt _worked_, or anything.

It's not any of these reasons, which anyone else in the Organization would consider perfectly valid.

Zexion can't stand the Assassin because of the overwhelming scent of thousands of a hundred kinds of flowers. If everyone else can smell him 10 feet away, Zexion can smell it from 100.

It's not necessarily that the smell is bad or even unpleasant. It's simply that it is so intense and so strong that it seems to take over his mental processes, instructing him to stop breathing, now, and making him dizzy from lack of air.

Besides the scent, there is also the annoying, tiny, spiky particles usually known as pollen, that insist on tickling the inside of his nose, making him sneeze repeatedly; small, delicate noises that have been mistaken for coughs before.

To add to this annoyance, number II and number VIII insist on keeping count of the uncontrollably linked series, obviously finding amusement in his discomfort. The most they have counted is 10; the least is 3.

Vexen had been working on it after Marluxia was first adopted into the Organization, attempting to find a 'cure' of some sort. However, he had arrived at the conclusion that it was mere hypersensitivity, not an allergy of any sort, due to the lack of histamine production, and there was nothing much that could be done about it. Then he had promptly become distracted by some other problem and never paid much attention to it again.

Axel is the next worst in the Organization, smelling quite obviously of wood smoke, warm and strong to the point that others can smell it, but just a whiff. It changes according to his mood, becoming sharper, more acrid when he becomes stressed or angry, sometimes even approaching the dry smell of ash more than smoke.

But there is a large gap between the unbearable aura of Marluxia and the swirling rush of Axel. At least where Axel is concerned there is no actual smoke unless he's been fighting.

Each of the Organization bears their own scent.

Xemnas is like the scent of the very air being cut. It's something that's hard to describe- a bitter, almost metallic scent, very obscure and elusive. It's overlaid with the scent of darkness- a scent that is very recognizably metallic; one that seems to press upon you; steel mixed with cotton.

Xigbar is similar to the Superior, but with the more obvious scents of gunpowder and leather. Zexion doesn't understand where the gunpowder scent comes from– all of the Freeshooter's weapons are laser-based. It's one of the things he's just decided not to bother with.

Vexen is actually the third worst in the Organization, simply because of the proliferation of scents associated with him that change on a daily basis. Sour, sweet, bitter, acid, basic- those last two being the worst of the worst, both unpleasant and strong enough to almost burn the sensitive skin inside his nose. Luckily, those don't show up often and are usually quickly washed off.

Zexion makes it a point to avoid Vexen's lab almost as obsessively as Marluxia's room. Or, for that matter, the general area _around_ Marluxia's room.

Larxene smells of the metallic flash of electricity; almost more of a _taste_ in the back of the mouth than a smell, and a much stronger undertone of copper- bright, superconducting metal smell.

That leads to Saཿx, whose main scent is unmistakably bloody, though there are underlying hints of the honeysuckle smell of the night, and a cold, dusty sheen that Zexion assumes is what the moon would smell like.

Luxord smells simply of paper, like a new book, or possibly money, although sometimes it's mixed with the scent of alcohol and sometimes the faint scent of cologne. He had used to wear enough of the stuff to send Zexion into a coma, but the Superior took it up with him almost immediately and pretty much confiscated the stuff.

Zexion refuses to go to the all-inclusive meetings simply because Marluxia will be there and he feels it's not worth the distraction merely to hear the Superior firsthand.

Lexaeus, his usual companion, fills him in on whatever goes on in these meetings, so there truly is no point in going. The Superior usually waits to finalize things until Zexion has sought him out for input.

As far as Marluxia really knows, Zexion might have actually died back in Castle Oblivion. He's probably confused when the others refer to Zexion as though he's still 'alive.'

Zexion likes having Lexaeus around because he reminds him of what it's like to smell like a person– sweat and soap and shampoo and skin.

His favorite two would have to be the Whirlwind Lancer and the Melodious Nocturne. Both of them have the softest, faintest, most natural scents in the Organization, making them tolerable if not pleasant to be with.

Demyx bears a childlike, almost milky scent that even Zexion has to bury his face in the crook of the other's neck and inhale to identify. His more detectable scent is the clear, fresh tone of pure water, with perhaps hints of rock and moss.

Xaldin's, of course, is that of the wind- purely, truly nothing. It carries other scents around them, depending on where it came from, some more pleasant than others. Xaldin finds it both frustrating and amusing when Zexion accepts him readily one night and refuses him the next- but Zexion can't help but find fresh linen on the wind much nicer than a fish market.

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Zexion has found, he's sure, the most perfect scent in all the worlds, both existent and not. Faint, subtle, but strong, not too intense, and nothing attached to bring in unpleasant smells.

The smell is that of the sky. It bears the traces of water and a hint of the lemon scent of the sun, and woven between is hints of the orange-blossom signature of the day.

It's something that Zexion must have, even if only once. Wants to find out what portion of it will intensify in pleasure, what the breath smells like panting in ecstasy, what it _tastes_ like.

The only problem- the scent belongs to the Keyblade bearer, who after certain Organization endeavors, now seems to have a mistrust of anything in a black coat.

Xemnas wonders why the youngest of Ansem's former apprentices is gone from the World that Never Was, wonders where he goes, what he does. But he doesn't ask.

His usual partners Demyx and Xaldin wonder why he turns them away night after night. But they fail to worry about it- they merely turn to others to find release.

Zexion spends his time now virtually stalking the young Keyblade master, taking in the sights and sounds and _smells_ in a world that exists. Hollow Bastion- now renamed 'Radiant Garden,' Disney Castle, Olympus Coliseum, Destiny Islands, all the places that the strange boy bearing the Key seems to visit.

Often it becomes overwhelming and the tousled-haired Nobody returns to his room, sometimes coughing, sometimes sneezing, always gasping through his mouth and looking just for a place to smell and hear and see _nothing_.

He can find it in the World Between, the strange little pocket of empty space between the simulated Twilight Town and the World that Never Was. Zexion sends the few Dusks and Assassins that may be about running and lies back, closing his eyes and floating, seemingly, in nothing.

In fact, there's so much _nothing_ that sometimes he has to watch himself to make sure he doesn't start fading away.

He almost runs into the Keyblade bearer's friends one day- the once-child he had almost confused with the Superior so long ago. Meeting him again, he wonders how he had ever managed to confuse the two- Riku smells of the ocean, the scent dimmed and sweetened like seaspray on the rocks.

It must have been the taint of the dark smell that had still been upon the pale boy at that point in time, because now that it's gone, allowing the natural scent through, the two are impossible to mix up.

Riku is much more sensitive and observant than the brunet he follows about. Riku is the one that actually noticed that Zexion was someone out of place in the sunny, salty-scented milling-beach environment of the Destiny Islands. Riku is the one who actually noticed that Zexion is following the two- or rather, the one, since Zexion really couldn't care less about the silver-haired one and his sea-spray scent. If he want that, daresay Demyx would adopt that into his scent easily enough if exposed to salt water.

Zexion is more careful next time he approaches them, braving once again the clashes of sand and sea and sunscreen and food and sweat and nylon and innumerable unnameable things. This time he takes care to somewhat cloak his presence, causing people on the street to swerve around him blindly, at once a blessing and a curse.

No one sees him when he is cloaked in nothingness, though he stands out, being clothed all in black and grey-blue hair tossed over one side of his face. They don't see him and therefore they do not toss him the variety of looks he usually receives- worried, disapproving, appreciative- and therefore he does not stand out.

However, they do not give him the relatively wide berth that they would normally give him, and each personal scent stacks atop the rest until his head hurts from all the information being loaded into it.

And then the Keyblade wielder walks past, drawing Zexion's attention away from the overload of smells, focusing on that _one_ scent, the one that draws him here on this hellish fiasco again and again.

He is alone today, something which Zexion appreciates. However, on this occasion he seems more alert than usual, as though something's wrong. Almost as though he's sensed... something.

Zexion curses mentally. Most likely the boy has sensed his cloaking, the amount of nothingness that has gone into it. He's never been cloaked on one of these ventures before.

Indeed, the brilliant, shining blue eyes train themselves on his general area, brows furrowed in concern. Thin legs slow their motion, thinner arms reaching unconsciously to a position to summon the Keyblade.

The spiky-haired boy stops five feet from Zexion, staring right at him and yet through him uneasily. People edge around him, regarding him uneasily– the boy is, after all, staring intently at nothing.

The steady trickle of people who have been coming by lulls, and the brunet dares to move now, edging suspiciously closer. Zexion stays frozen, still cloaked, though he is certain the skinny youth knows exactly where he is.

A woman cuts between them, practically brushing against the hidden black-cloaked figure, perfume so strong that even the Keyblade bearer wrinkles his nose in distaste.

Zexion nearly loses his balance, body rebelling against the olfactory abuse. Silently he wills himself not to sneeze, stay quiet, pretend he's not there. It's a battle lost before it had even begun.

He sneezes, violently for him, yet still the odd little linked-together sneezes, losing control over the cloaking in the process. Nine. Almost hit his record there.

The Keyblade master stares, completely dumbfounded, as a Nobody he has never seen before recovers his composure. Zexion curses to himself. Losing control of a cloaking because of sneezing has to be one of the least dignified things to do.

"Who are you?" the younger asks simply, now gazing at the disgruntled man in fascination. Zexion and he are almost the same height; Zexion perhaps slightly taller, though it's hard to tell with the mop of russet brown spikes the boy calls hair.

Zexion raises one eyebrow at the boy, truthfully still reeling from the heavy musk smell in the air. Breathing through the mouth doesn't help any, as he can still _taste_ the perfume hanging there. His head hurts, his nose hurts, and he's fairly sure it will only be a matter of time before the assault of the outside world overwhelms him.

Without quite thinking it through he reaches forward, grabbing the boy by one lean arm, feeling briefly the warm skin and the shift of wiry muscles, before shifting his attention to opening a portal to his usual refuge, the World Between.

"Wha- Wait! What are you_ doing_?!" the Keyblade wielder protests in a rough, boyish tenor as he is pulled through the swirling darkness.

He is released, the portal closes, and Zexion flops down to the proverbial 'ground' in this place, still breathing heavily through the mouth. He is forcibly reminded of why the Superior does not send him on the missions the others are sent on regularly- because, frankly, venturing out of a controlled environment is not Zexion's strong point. He does much better on the planning and thinking behind the scenes.

The woman- she touched him. The coat still bears her scent, insufferably so. It still burns in his nose, tainting the otherwise nothing-smell of the place. He draws it over his head, pitching it as far away as he can. It skids off into the shifting shapes that obscure the vision of how far this place might stretch, leaving Zexion in merely the black jeans and boots he wore under the coat, having not bothered with a shirt under it today.

The Keyblade bearer watches him breathe raggedly now in concern, belying the tales of one who steadfastly believed in destroying Nobodies that had been told by Xemnas and Demyx most noticeably among the others.

"Are you okay?"

Zexion once again cannot answer, hating himself for this weakness but knowing better than to try something without giving himself a chance to recover.

The boy slides into a cross-legged position next to him, leaning over the half-hidden face just slightly. The electric-blue eyes surreptitiously slide over the Nobody's well-defined if barely-feminine form, but Zexion catches it, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smile.

"You don't seem like an Organization member." the younger male comments.

Zexion's breath hitches for a moment in an attempt to fire off a comeback, but he suppresses the urge, instead focusing on getting his breathing under control.

_Him_ not seem like an Organization member? Demyx, maybe even Axel, break the mold more so than he. He is one of the _originals_, damn it. He helps _define_ the mold. Not that it is much of a mold to begin with. The entire Organization is made up of odd ducks, really, if you thought about it.

"So, anyhow... what's your name? I'm Sora." The spiky-haired boy flashes a brilliant smile at him.

Sora... it's odd to think of it that way. The boy has always been the Key, the Keyblade bearer, the denizen of light to Zexion. He's never really connected a _name_ to the brunet now sitting next to him.

Without hesitation now he gives his name. "Zexion."

"Why are you running around in that coat? I thought the Organization was destroyed." Sora's brow is furrowed in innocent confusion, causing Zexion to go into breathless laughter.

"The Organization is perfectly well, if missing our thirteenth member." he manages, sitting up and poking the boy in the chest. The brunet blinks at him wide-eyed.

"But... they all faded away. I saw most of them."

"A Nobody of our caliber fades when he (or she) loses the will that kept their form in the first place. Once the will is gathered again, he (or she) will re-form, whether it takes a week or a decade." Zexion explains.

"Oh." Sora says, sounding slightly stunned.

The grey-blue haired Nobody smirks slightly. "Most of us were surprised Axel managed to get himself back together so soon."

Suddenly bright blue eyes light up. "Hey, can I listen to your heart? I mean, you haven't got one and all, but I've just always wanted to see if there's really nothing, y'know, _beating_."

Zexion blinks, finally daring to take a breath through his nose, and is instantly consumed by the sky-sun-day scent, the only thing here that emits any scent besides the rancid coat now being eaten by the nothingness.

He nods slowly, adding, "Only if I get a favor in return."

Sora squeaks happily, nuzzling his head up to the Nobody's chest to place one ear over where the heart should be, milk chocolate spikes tickling Zexion's chin. The older male gasps slightly at the initial contact of warm, tanned skin against his pale flesh, the prolonged movements sending undetectable shivers throughout his body.

The brunet stays half-cuddled against the tousled man's side, innocently unaware of Zexion's rising excitement, a cherubic smile splitting his face at the novelty of the silence. Zexion struggles to maintain self control in the face of the subtly shifting mass of scent in front of him. It is the hair that smells faintly of the sun, the skin with the light, cloudlike scent of water, and therefore–

Zexion leans forward and captures the rosy lips, pressing gently, shifting subtly, and pulling away. Sora stares up at him, slightly perplexed but mostly shamefully eager, a blush mantling his cheeks. Zexion repeats the exercise, harder and longer this time, delighted to find the boy moving against him in turn.

This time he pulls away to dip his mouth to the exposed neck, planting wet kisses down it and sucking slightly. The brunet gasps lightly, arching the neck as if to invite more. Instead Zexion returns to the open lips, gently venturing his tongue into the boy's hot, hot mouth. The other returns enthusiastically, every part of him that Zexion can feel heating up.

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The air is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, but it is lightened by the delightfully elevated citrus tang of Sora's scent, lemon and orange mixing and making the air pleasant to breathe for once.

"So..." Sora manages. "What was that favor?"

Zexion chuckles softly at the fact that the Keyblade master doesn't even think to consider what they just did .

"That was it." he says matter-of-factly.

"Oh." Sora yawns. "Well, you can ask for those again."

**Fin**

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A/N: Well... I had a little too much fun with that, to tell the truth. Particularly the assigning of smells to each person. I was lying half awake til nearly 3 a.m., planning this story. (twitches) So yeah... I'm insane. n.n

Hope you enjoyed it. (nods) I adore serious crack!pairings.

Next chapter: Saཿx!!


	2. Reflections

Reflections

**Summary**: Saཿx is a slave to the full moon. What happens when Sora stumbles across him while wandering the castle.

**Warning**: Contains random pairings and yaoi material. This does mean boys having sex. Don't like, don't read.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters. I do own the game. (But not the rights to it. T.T)

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Saཿx's title is the Luna Diviner. But among most of the Organization he's more likely to be called "that crazy werewolf" or, more insulting still, "Xemnas's pet werewolf."

He knows that he is called this, though never to his face. Usually he ignores it when her hears it, save when he is in a temper and all-too-ready to give someone a good beating.

For Saཿx, a 'good beating' usually stops just short of discoporation on the other's part. Xemnas doesn't like them to fade away; it's always a toss-up on how long it will take for them to (or whether they will) come back.

He's definitely one of the more unstable members, even counting the fact that most of them are not what one would call 'stable.' Saཿx really doesn't care. At least, most of the time. Sometimes it bothers him, and maybe he'll try not to fly off the handle as much. That will last, oh, maybe until a couple nights before full moon if he's lucky.

Saཿx is referred to as a 'lunaphile,' but really he's more like the moon's slave than its lover.

The only time he could truly be referred to as 'sane' is during the half moon, waxing or waning. That's when it holds the least influence on him, and he's free to live his little unlife as normally as possible.

During the new moon it's like all his energy is gone. Energy, will, motion, all are at an astonishing low. The other emotions, those termed 'weak,' are what whisper through his head, affecting him until sometimes he has convinced himself that he can 'feel' them. Sadness, happiness, love, joy. But mostly a sort of sick depression.

He used to use the kitchen to mope, because eating makes everyone feel better, even if they can't really 'feel.' But then certain wiseasses decide to start making cracks about 'times of the month.'

Rather than be called a girl, Saཿx now stays in the Addled Impasse to pretend the world isn't there and try not to fade away. Sometimes it's tempting, but never _that_ tempting.

Full moons are the opposite. Saཿx is crackling with energy, temper, fury, and dislike rolled all into one. The only ones who regularly dare to approach him in this state are Xemnas and the terminally insane redhead. These are the times when Xemnas more often than not sends him to go kill something. It's the simplest solution.

And in the half-animal state, Saཿx doesn't really know or care that he's being manipulated, that he's just a problem to be solved half the time. He is a slave to the moon.

His attachment to their Kingdom Hearts was different from any of the other's. With Kingdom Hearts full and heavy in the sky, the effects of the regular moon were dimmed almost to the point of nonexistence. Kingdom Hearts was a much more regular and less spastic source of power. Only with it could he enter the Berserker mode with any hope of controlling (or exiting) it.

However, Kingdom Hearts is now destroyed, and Saཿx is once again subject to the moon's fickle power.

Right now is worst of the worst, the full moon just beginning to rise, and adding a tingling irritation to the restless energy that has had him pacing up and down the Nothing's Call all day. Any lesser Nobodies that are usually about that area are gone now, having fled the wrath of his claymore.

"You look like a dude who's lost his way." an annoyingly accented voice reaches him, and the blue-haired man turns stiffly to meet the upside-down face of the Freeshooter, one of the ones made so much more annoying by the simple merit of outranking him. Of course, Xigbar doesn't require the annoyance of rank to piss Saཿx off; his simple mocking camaraderie and strange tendency to show up upside down are quite enough in and of themselves.

"I am anything but lost." Saཿx growls in a threatening tone.

The older Nobody's single eye widens considerably, and he disappears for a moment before reappearing and throwing a mock salute- from a much safer distance.

"Sorry, dude, didn't know it was that time of the month." With that parting statement laced with amusement, Xigbar takes off.

Saཿx stands in place for a moment trying to control the urge to summon his weapon and go after the higher-ranking man, then resumes pacing more viciously than before. No doubt the word will be spreading now to avoid the Nothing's Call.

Saཿx wishes vehemently for Xemnas to come with a mission for him tonight. He simply has too much energy to contain. Too much energy translates itself into false rage, imagined passion. He is almost an insult to the Organization. Usually he is so good at being an emotionless Nobody.

He doesn't understand how those like Demyx consider it their duty to pretend they have emotions as a rule. They act like it's _easier_ to not have emotions, like they're doing something special by _having_ emotions.

Well, perhaps when Kingdom Hearts was there it had been like that for Saཿx. Now, all it takes is a major phase of the moon and he is hard put to convince himself that these 'emotions' aren't real.

Because they're not. Why else does he feel so empty after the full moon? It's a farce, a trick his body and mind play on him.

By now the moon has climbed over halfway into the sky, lighting the jointed metal surfaces of the section of the castle he prowls with its intoxicating cool silvery light. It's worse than usual tonight, adding a frustrating sexual edge to its effect. The half-arousal added to everything else has Saཿx half-growling in rage, now furiously battling the air up and down the pathway, slinging the huge, spiky weapon around as though it is one of Larxene's kunai.

One by one he imagines each of the other Organization members as his opponents. Otherwise what he's doing is even more idiotic than it is, blind motion uselessly pouring the boundless energy into doing something, anything.

First is Xemnas, first with one aerial blade, then two, then a misleading copy of himself keeping Saཿx whirling about here and there, blocked here, scoring a hit there, damn, that was the copy, blocking Xemnas's attack just barely in time.

Then Xigbar, the annoying upside-down one, appears in his mind's eye, sending off a stream of laser darts in his direction. Saཿx blocks them, lunges murderously towards the gray-streaked head, and whirls to find where it might have gone to.

The Whirlwind Lancer has taken his place, grinning wolfishly at Saཿx as the six lances float around him. Saཿx is forced into a defensive stance as Xaldin rushes him, two in each hand and the other two trailing, spinning threateningly. Saཿx blocks almost frantically as he is attacked here, there, from all sides. A lance slips past his guard and had this been something other than imagination, he'd be dead.

Except not really. Vexen takes Xaldin's place, hand outstretched to raise a chunk of ice around Saཿx. Saཿx rolls to the side, comes back up, attacks. Vexen catches him on the shield- just barely. The claymore is caught on the spikes and Saཿx presses his advantage, except he air doesn't provide any resistance and the illusion crumbles, replaced by number V.

Saཿx goes straight to attacking the larger man, foiled at every turn until he can finally dart around, getting under Lexaeus's guard. A little blow like that means nothing to the Silent Hero, though, and he smirks unpleasantly before fading away into Zexion.

The scarred Nobody straightens, glares, still thrumming with untapped energy. Zexion cannot attack, defend. He is no good for this exercise. To be sure, illusions can be deadly, but obviously Saཿx does not need number VI's help to plant illusions in his own head.

Zexion is shoved aside by Axel. Much better. Somebody Saཿx can happily use his aggression on. Attacking swiftly, he is blocked by a chakram, then has to disengage to protect himself from the fiery path of the other one. One, two, over and over, Axel leaping and dance about like the flames he represents.

An annoying call, "Skip to the beat!" rings out, and suddenly Demyx appears where Axel was. He grins impishly, strumming a chord and shouting, "Dance, water, dance!" Innumerable copies of him appear. Saཿx slices through them as though they were butter, making short work of the multitude.

The Gambler's cards appear; the diviner shreds them mercilessly, blocking a set of dice thrown at his head. He goes for the blonde, but finds him disappeared into a set of spinning cards. Saཿx has forgotten how much he hates trying to fight Luxord.

Marluxia appears, but Saཿx wants no part of that traitor. His frustration peaks as he blocks the flight of kunai Larxene sends at him. The moon has reached its zenith, and by now Saཿx thinks he might as well just die from all the false sensations running through him.

In the bright light cast by the moon, the thirteenth member appears. Roxas. Saཿx growls, hefting the claymore. He has no qualms about trying to kill_ that_ traitor. Unlike Marluxia, Roxas has not come back. Golden eyes glinting dangerously, Saཿx flies to the attack. Roxas yells, jumps back, and...

Falls?

The illusion melts away, and a skinny boy with spiky brown hair clothed only in what resembles the pants most of the Organization wears is scrambling away from him. Shock and terror shine from deep blue eyes; real, and not imagined. Not Roxas. Somebody.

Sora. The Keyblade master. A denizen of light.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Saཿx asks, glaring.

"U-um, I dunno, I was k-kinda... lost." the boy manages. Odd. Last time the met, the boy had been fully confident in himself... and fully clothed. Saཿx's mind reels at all the bare skin in his current state. Sexual frustration never does much for one's coherence abilities.

Abruptly the blue-haired Nobody whirls, the claymore disappearing, and stalks off, trembling with the effort of will it takes to control himself. It has definitely not occurred to him before that the Keyblade bearer is very, well, molestable, but then, last time he had seen him as a tool and not a person.

And to add to that, Kingdom Hearts had been blocking the moon, the boy had been clothed and hefting a Keyblade, and had intention to destroy him.

He makes it back to the Addled Impasse in record time, slamming back and forth across the huge room, still not even panting though the exertion merits it. He is half-hard and glad of the black coat to hide it.

He crashes into the door to his room and roars his frustration, not willing to suffer in silence any more. It isn't like anyone will be bothered by it. There is a reason why his room is connected to the Addled Impasse, which is reachable only from the portal in the Proof of Existence.

Why is the moon's effect so damned great this time around? There is nothing different from the last time except... Except _he_ is here.

Sora. A denizen of light. The sun is what lights up the moon and makes it bright. The day must then be here to antagonize the night. And damn it all, it's working.

A thump draws his attention to the portal, where the object of his thoughts stands, flushed and panting as though he's been running. Which, of course, he must have been, to catch up to Saཿx at the speed he was going. Saཿx's breath catches slightly. Why? Why why why is the boy so _attractive_?

He's like a gold coin atop a mountain of silver, when silver is all Saཿx has ever known. Like sunlight caressing a garden that's been eternally moonlit. The light that reflects off the moon that's driving Saཿx crazy. Crazy with energy, power, false emotions, and now... lust.

It's strange. He's never had this problem with any other the other members. Some of them are moonlit, some not lit. Axel is firelit. Marluxia comes closest to this boy's radiance, but his is more like the artificial lights he grows his plants under. Saཿx can't stand artificiality.

There's nothing artificial about Sora. Everything he is is pure, real, straight from the heart. If jealously was one of the emotions the moon could make him think he feels, he'd be green with it by now. Luckily that's more the property of the new moon.

The Nobody glares venomously at the boy, screaming without words, without sounds, to _go the fuck away_.

Sora draws back slightly, eyes wide and a slight flush still painted across his face. But he gathers his composure again.

"Saཿx." he states clearly. "I know_ you_. I thought you died."

"A Nobody doesn't die." Saཿx says gruffly.

"Oh, yeah... umn, I mean-"

"What are you doing here?" the scarred Nobody interrupts him.

The boy jumps. "Ah! Umn, I followed you?" He fidgets nervously.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Saཿx demands.

"B-because, well, you went off so suddenly. After you _attacked_ me like that. And... I wanted to know what's up."

"The moon." Saཿx mutters angrily, so that the brunet can barely hear. The boy quirks his head curiously, approaching closer, breath quickening in nervousness.

Ah! No! Don't do that! Saཿx backs away as quickly as Sora comes, eyes widening. His body urges him to jump the boy _now_, while he's vulnerable and unprepared, or, oh hell, just anything to find release. It's as though all the energy haunting him is changing into sexual. To put it simply, Saཿx is horny as fuck.

Bright blue eyes blink in confusion. Sora stops and so does Saཿx, the Nobody panting silently and trying to appear not to. And then suddenly Sora is almost right next to him.

Fuck! How the hell did he do that? Saཿx's body reacts violently to the sudden proximity. He can almost feel the boy's body heat. In a sudden flurry of panic he dashes into his room, slamming the door and prowling back and forth at the foot of the bed, leaving a very confused Sora outside.

As if to further the punishment, Sora opens the door and once again appears in the room with him.

"See? Why do you keep running away like that?"

A half-moan, half-growl makes it from Saཿx's throat. How supremely oblivious can a person _be_? It's the goddamn full moon; Saཿx isn't to be held responsible for idiots who follow him around on these nights.

When Sora remains innocently confused, waiting for an answer, Saཿx snaps. The brunet squeaks as the blue-haired Nobody is suddenly on him, hands locking on skinny upper arms in a bruising grip, grinding their hips together violently. Sora's lower half responds automatically to Saཿx's arousal.

"Undress me." Saཿx hisses in a voice used to giving orders. Yellow eyes burn feverishly into blue. Sora makes a 'meep'ing noise and complies, clumsily pulling the zipper of the coat open, working it off the Nobody's shoulders to pool in a heap on the floor. His hands fumble at the bottom of the tight-fitting black t-shirt. Saཿx growls, thrusting harder against the form in front of him, painfully constrained by the pants.

Finally Sora manages to pull the shirt over Saཿx's head, but not before the other loses his patience and rips the thing virtually to shreds. Saཿx's hands find his ribs and slide down, blunt nails carving raised pink paths in Sora's skin. Sora's pants are practically torn off of him, the button and zipper undone by sheer force. He hurries to perform the same office for the other, but much less violently.

Visit http// games. php?no 600080393&chapter2 minus the spaces for the full version

This time Sora falls away from him, snuggling himself blindly into the bed. Saཿx rolls away from the sticky mess, following the boy's example and, for the first time he can ever remember, falling asleep with the full moon still in the sky.

When he wakes up, Sora is gone, the only trace of him having ever been there coating the sheets. The night is a wild haze to Saཿx, leaving him with one question begging to be answered.

Who the hell had let that boy into the Castle again?

0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0

**Fin**

A/N: Well. That took a while. n.n But I'm proud of myself anyway.

Yes, this has been turned into a longer fic rather than a oneshot. However, the main focus (beyond some insight on each Organization member) is smut, therefore, it's being posted on AFF...


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